And the Dreary Sky Continued to Rain
by oceanlover4evr
Summary: WW2 AU. Lovino Vargas is a normal older brother who tries to adhere by society's rules without being swallowed up. It all works out- he can take care of his younger brother and survive- until one day a bomb hits his workplace and he's crippled...


**A/N: Here's another Hetalia fic. It was written for a prompt in English, which had to be double spaced and no more than four pages, 12-font, so that's why it's so short. Oh, and it's an AU. The prompt was 'Social Darwinism', which is kind of like a '1984', 'Fahrenheit 451', and 'The Giver' kind of subject. Very dark.**

**And so, without much ado, I give you...**

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><p><span>And the Dreary Sky Continued to Rain<span>

Lovino Vargas was sure of three things in his life by now:

His life sucked.

Karma was a bitch.

And explosions were not something you wanted to be caught up in.

There was a good reason for the last line of thought. Lovino sat in a wheelchair, starring desolately through a grimy window to the grey dreary world outside. It was raining again. It always was raining. Tufts of brown hair and one lone curl peeked out from under the bandages and gauze wrapped around his head.

When did it all go wrong? He wondered. One moment he had been working diligently, and the next moment there was a tremendous amount of light and noise and _pain was everywhere_. Later, when he had come to, the doctors had explained that a fallen roof beam had crushed his legs, so he'd be confined to a wheelchair for quite some time, if not for the rest of his life. But that was not the worst of his injuries. During the explosion, both his right eye and arm had been pierced by shrapnel. The arm had been damaged beyond healing, and had to be amputated. He was 'lucky' however, since the damage had been limited to his optic nerves, instead of going through the eye and into his brain. Such a wound would've been fatal. Lovino snorted, fingers drumming angrily against the wheelchair's armrests. It was a classic case of 'beat him enough to make life no longer worth living, but leave him alive to stew through his misery, his own personal Hell'.

And now he was good for nothing. Who would want to hire and employ a useless cripple? He was missing an arm, an eye, and both of his legs, damnit! Right after the accident he had been 'retired', or in other words, fired. How was he going to pay for the bill and food now? True, his younger brother had a job, but truthfully Feliciano was a bumbling, innocent, naive idiot, who couldn't see the harsh reality of the world. And the hospital bill alone…. there was no way Feli would be able to pay for it, and Romano was in no condition to.

Dear God, what was he going to tell Feliciano?

It was funny, his relationship with his younger brother. He absolutely hated Feliciano, but it wasn't Feli's fault. It wasn't his fault that he was so cute, attractive, and innocent, and _talented_. It wasn't his fault that their Grandfather obviously favored the younger sibling, or that he already had a good, steady job with the government and _connections_, He got the jobs, the girls, while Lovino slaved away working for that bastard of a(n ex) boss. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't understand why they had to save their money, couldn't understand how the world was really a harsh, ugly place to live in.

Just the other day, he had to explain why the poor old lady who begged for pennies at the corner were taken away by the _Schutzstaffel_, the 'elite' German forces currently stationed in their Italian hometown. "She couldn't take care of herself, so they made sure she'd never have to take care of herself again." Then Feliciano asked, with uncorrupted amber eyes opened wide, why couldn't they go on giving her pennies? And then his _fratello_ had replied, eyes never straying from the scene of the screaming woman being dragged away by the fucking Krauts (Because who else would remember for this woman? Everyone else scuttled by, eyes resolutely staring at the ground, or at least anywhere then the scene unfolding right in front of them). "People need to take care of themselves, and those who cannot don't deserve to live." And Feliciano had nodded like this was the wisest thing he had ever heard, and Lovino's heart twisted a little more. Feliciano was 20 years old already, and he still didn't quite understand what was right in society versus what was right morally. Lovino blamed that stupid German that his younger brother was always hanging out with. What was his name again? Ludwig, wasn't it? Ludwig Beilschmidt, a top officer in the _Schutzstaffel_. That's right, the stupid potato-eating fucking bastard, responsible for so much of the misery in his life. And the Italian made sure, that next time he saw the blond, he spat at the ground, showed him that he could get away with these actions, but the people would remember, always remember, even if they hid and shoved away these memoires.

As Lovino sat near the window, deep in thought, he heard the door creak open. Feliciano bounded in, arms full of groceries. "_Fratello_, _fratello_, look what I bought today! They had pasta and tomatoes, so I'm gonna make our dinner tonight! _Fratello?_"

The brother finally caught sight of the older Italian. He saw the wounds, the bandages, the wheelchair. He saw the tied sleeve hiding the missing arm, the one lone glittering green eye shining with a myriad of emotions; he saw the other eye that didn't. He saw, and he stared, horrified, hands covering his mouth, groceries dropped and forgotten on the floor.

Lovino chuckled drily, voice laced with self-loathing and sarcasm. "Hey, Feli. Sorry about this, but I'm sure that the pasta can wait. We need to talk."

Feliciano trembled, and said in a quivering voice, "What had happened, Lovi?"

Lovino gave a depreciating laugh. "Let's see… a bomb exploded at work, I'm seriously injured for life, and I was sacked. What else?"

"And what are you going to do now?"

He gave a small sad shake of his head. "Nothing. What can I do? I can't even pay for the hospital bill, can't even work, _can't even take care of myself_-"His voice broke at this point, and Lovino choked back a sob that threatened to overwhelm him. _No, I won't cry. I must not look weak. Feliciano depends on me. I promised Grandfather I'd take care of Feli._

His younger brother stayed silent, head bowed. An oppressive atmosphere filled the room. Suddenly, Feliciano brightened.

"I know just what to do!" He broke into his usual cheerful sunny grin. Lovino's hopes lifted a little, but he was still skeptical. This was _Feliciano_, uselessness personified, after all. "Do you?"

He nodded eagerly, a puppy willing to please. "_Si, si_! Remember Ludwig? My friend?" Romano twitched at the mention of the German. He _really, REALLY, _hated that sonuvabitch. Feliciano continued, ignorant of Romano's opinion of his friend. "You remember that penny lady, and how the nice officers took care of her? You're explanation confused me, so I asked Luddy to help me. So I totally understand now. Isn't that great, Lovi?"

A feeling of foreboding stole over Lovino's body….

Feliciano brattled on, that excited happy smile never leaving his face. "Seeing _fratello_ is in this situation, I'll help take care of you! That way, no one can say I'm useless. I'm not useless. I took care of _fratello_."

He fished around in his pockets. "Ah, here it is." He removed a gun from his pocket. A Beretta Modelo 1934, to be more specific; it was the one that used to belong to their Grandfather. Lovino froze, icy dread creeping over his heart. His eyes flicked between that gun and his brother's smiling face, which was the same as ever- bright, innocent hazel eyes, and a cheerful smile adorning his face. And that's what made it worse. _He doesn't realize what he is doing is wrong_, Lovino's inner thoughts whispered to him. _He doesn't realize what is wrong and what is right_. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to beg for mercy. _Is this how that woman felt, taken away by the Nazis?_ No matter what he did, it would not change the outcome of this situation. A single tear trickled from the lonely eye, tracing a path down his grimy cheek. _No one would ever remember him, bring up his name. No one would ask any questions. It'd be as if he never existed_.

Feliciano fiddled a bit, then let out a small "Ah-ha!", and looked up to face his brother. He cocked the gun and pointed it at Lovino, then smiled some more. "Don't worry, _fratello_. You don't need to take care of yourself anymore. This way it's all better, _si_?"

Lovino smiled bitterly. "Guess I'm going to Hell after all. I hope you feel proud of yourself, you bastard. And tell your friend I'll meet him soon enough in the halls of the Devil."

A single shot rang out through the night.

A red rose bloomed on the dusty wooden floor.

No one heard. No one knew what had happened. And no one cared.

_Pitter patter. Pitter patter_.

_Everything around me is dead and grey_

_Still bleeding to death, and there I lay_

_I'm growing cold, and I see a light_

_Trying to stand, I try and I fight_

_Finally I give up, and I begin crying_

_And accept the fact that I'm actually dieing  
><em>

The dreary grey sky continued to rain.

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><p><strong>AN:**Psh.. my very first dark angsty writing. Pretty good in my opinion. I'll probably make an extended story based on this sometime in the future.

The poem is _Rain, Grey, Blood_ by Lacey Dark. I really like the full poem, but then again, that's just me.

I'll probably update The One That Is All sometime within the next two weeks. So far I only have two paragraphs typed up XO. Such a procrastinator...


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